Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Emotional Shoes

Have I ever written about the cobalt blue shoes in Paris? The shoes in the window I passed everyday for almost a month? The shoes I desperately needed, wanted? If I did write about those coveted blue shoes, forgive me. Because in the days before I left, the store didn't have my size, and when Tony and I searched like crazed parents for a missing child, and didn't find the cobalt shoes anywhere, I stood on a Parisian corner and cried.

Tony held me in his arms and tried to console.

The next year while walking down a rue, Tony couldn't help spotting a pair of cobalt blue shoes on an outdoor rack. They weren't exactly what I wanted and I hesitated, but so hampered with the previous year's experience, he insisted I buy them.

Poor guy, I wouldn't be surprised if he had nightmares of cobalt blue shoes eating his pain au chocolates. All five a day.

This Christmas, while sitting across from a woman who was opening a gift from her mother, I understood when she broke into tears when it was the exact Kate Spade purse she adored. I was touched, because I knew it was more than a greedy obsession. The purse was a gift from a loved one. It stood for devotion and said, "I got your back."

So, this time, when I needed a specific pair of rain boots, that had to be purchased in a small window of time, in a distant city, Tony wasn't so happy. I am certain he had visions of the great Paris shoe caper. He claimed he was up for the errand, but I know my Tony. He was secretly worried the incident would turn in to a repeat of the cobalt, blue shoe incident. I dragged him into the Womens Shoes and sat him down in a comfy chair on the fringe of the lady's shoe department. He pulled out his electronic device and sat down for a long winter's nap. I rushed about choosing the perfect three and within minutes had modeled and chosen the perfect pair of rain boots. I even went with Tony's choice. Before he could have moaned Paris cobalt blue shoes three times I was marching towards the department store exit. Tony, contently behind.